This is My Family
by RandmWriter
Summary: Unfortunately, Chunk was used to it. He was used to the occasional insult or slur or derogatory comment, and he had long since learned to let it go and walk away. His teammates, however, were most certainly not used to it, and they had no intention of walking away or letting it go any time soon. ("Five Times Chunk's Teammates Defended Him and One Time He Returned the Favor")
1. This is My Family (Cable)

_**"This is my family..."**_

* * *

 _ **\- • -**_

* * *

The first time it happened, Chunk was with Cable on one of their frequent coffee-runs.

Well, it wasn't so much _their_ coffee-runs as it was just Chunk's, considering he was the one who ordered, paid and carried all the drinks back to the office. Nonetheless, he was thankful for the company, and the constant stream of chatter always helped make the long waits in line seem shorter.

On this occasion, the line was faster than usual, and Chunk was simply waiting for his very particular set of drinks at the receiving area. Particular in a sense that each member of the team had their own incredibly detailed specifications for their own cup of coffee ( _"Half sugar, non-fat, soy latte with extra foam for me, please. Thanks, Chunk!") ._

The former athlete remembered the first time he had been assigned coffee-run duty and received a list of their orders. Suffice to say he was shocked into silence at the sheer complexity of their requests - his preference just being a black coffee with two sugars. It was a right _science_ at first, and he was sure he got most of it wrong. After a while, though, it grew more endearing than anything. And so he volunteered more often to get the team's caffeinated beverages, to the point he went out on a daily basis and was officially dubbed the team's coffee-runner. Now, he had memorized the orders by heart. It wasn't very difficult, seeing as how each drink reflected their drinker's personality.

On more than one occasion, though, he liked to experiment with the drinks - adding a pump of vanilla here or a dash of cinnamon powder there. Every time, he would hand the drink to its recipient and inform them of his subtle change - explaining that he believed they would appreciate the flavors a bit more. After a cautious sip and a surprised expression, he would then receive permission to modify the drink from then on, followed by a grateful smile.

Today, Benny in particular seemed a bit more worn out than usual - no small thanks to their current case - and he was certain the smaller man would appreciate the extra shot of espresso Chunk sneaked into his drink. He usually did the same with Cable's drink anyway.

' _Speaking of Cable...'_ thought Chunk as he scanned the shop for his young charge. As expected, Cable was standing near the coffee machines - talking the barista's ear off and asking about the technical specifications of the said device.

"So how hot can this thing go?" asked the hacker, causing Chunk to smile in amusement. "I mean I hear ninety-six degrees is the best for brewing coffee, but I'm pretty sure-"

The stylist was curious as to where the conversation would go, but his attention was diverted when felt a tap on his shoulder.

The larger man turned around and came face-to-face with three young men with varying hair colors - none of them older than twenty, he was sure - and all of which wore surprised expressions.

"No way!" exclaimed the blonde one of the three. With his body language and manner, Chunk guessed he was the leader of this little group. "You're Chunk Palmer! You used to play defense for Georgia!"

Cable - hearing the exclamation from where she stood a little ways away - smirked in amusement as Chunk's facial expression transformed into his _'always-a-pleasure-to-meet-a-fan'_ face. She had already seen it on a number of occasions, but it was always funny to watch. Not to mention she got to tease his mercilessly afterwards.

"We're all on our college football team too," boasted the brunette while the redhead puffed out his chest in pride.

Chunk flashed them a well-practiced smile. They seemed like good kids. Still... he couldn't help but feel that something was... _off_ , and he had long-since learned to trust his instincts. Nonetheless, he pushed his thoughts aside for later. In his time, he had encountered many a college varsity player, and he already knew which questions to ask.

"So," he began. "Any of you thinking of going pro?"

"Oh yeah, all of us!" answered the blonde, and the three of them proceeded to give each other fistbumps and high-fives.

Well... they seemed alright, if not a bit over-enthusiastic.

"Hey," the leader continued. "Didn't you quit the draft?"

Both Chunk and Cable - who had been listening in on the conversation - felt their stomachs coil ominously. It was a simple question, but there was something in the young man's tone that made it feel... loaded. Threatening.

"I did," Chunk answered succinctly.

"Ah," responded the blonde. The older man was certain he was the group's spokesperson at this point. The young man's face then twisted into a sneer, and Chunk could see what was about to happen from a mile away.

"Did ya' do it because you were gay?"

Chunk turned to Cable, her face disbelieving, but he could see the beginnings of anger sparking in her eyes. He raised his hand in a placating gesture.

 _'I've got this.'_

The larger man then turned back his attention to the three, each wearing cruel smirks on their faces.

"Excuse me?" he asked - voice leveled, only letting a sliver of his irritation bleed through.

"Hey, man. Chill," the blonde said, raising his hands in surrender. "I'm sure you didn't have a choice. Higher-ups probably told you they'd kick you out, am I right? Was it that quarterback that ratted you out?"

The larger man had a feeling the younger was going for an understanding tone, but his words still came out condescending and colored with bigotry. Chunk had to breathe deeply and worked to repair the cracks in his composure. He was _not_ doing this here.

"Gentlemen," he said in faux calm. "If all you're going to do is insult-"

"Relax man!" the ginger piped up, going so far as to reach up and pat Chunk's shoulder. "We get it! You were born that way! It's not your fault and it's not like we blame you. I mean who would ever willingly choose to be a fagg-"

In that moment, multiple things happened at once.

The barista called out "Coffee for Chunk!" and placed his take-out bags on the counter.

Then the ginger-haired man finished his sentence.

His friends snickered in agreement.

Cable rushed forward with a blazing inferno in her eyes that scared even the stylist.

And Chunk quickly placed himself between the group and the furious hacker who had yet to stop glaring daggers at the young men.

Cable looked at Chunk with heat in her eyes - silently asking for permission to rend the homophobic low-lives and tear them limb from limb. In some morbid way, it warmed Chunk's heart to see her leap to his defense, but he couldn't let her sink to their level by retaliating.

' _Leave it,'_ his eyes said calmly.

Cable was incredulous to say the least, and was more than ready to protest - but Chunk's quiet "please" silenced the arguments that had formed on her lips.

The former football star took a calming breath, and in one smooth movement, picked up his to-go bags and led his young charge to the door.

He could still hear the murmured insults coming from the group, and all he could do was heave a sigh.

He was the adult here. He had to be the bigger man.

Nonetheless, it was satisfying to hear the hateful words come to an abrupt halt as the hacker turned back to glare at them - her gaze promising revenge and assuring them of their painfully slow demise.

And with that, they stepped out of the cafe and into the frigid New York air.

* * *

"You should've let me take them," Cable said in frustration as she took a sip of her venti latte. She had long since plucked her own coffee cup from one of the bags Chunk was carrying, and was now sipping the hot beverage with a scowl on her face. The stylist was hard-pressed to smother his smile at the young girl's antics.

"I could've ripped them apart, you know," she continued, and Chunk hummed in agreement.

"I know. That's why I stopped you. I was more worried for them than anything else," came the reply. He smiled when he saw that his words had the desired effect and got a smirk out of Cable.

"They were idiots anyway," she remarked as she took swig after swig from her drink. "I mean c'mon, did they not _see_ you? You could literally sit on them and crush them to the size of like... raisins."

The older of the two couldn't suppress his chuckle at the mental image his companion provided - the sound of his laughter causing the hacker to break out into a smile of her own.

They continued talking as they neared the TAC building - their conversation comfortable, if not a bit confusing, mostly due to Cable going off on a tangent on a number of instances. Chunk didn't mind.

As they entered the building, the larger man smirked as his young friend gazed mournfully at her now-empty coffee cup, and with a sigh, threw it in the nearest bin.

He shifted the bags to free his hand, and with it, he gave the young woman a comforting pat on the shoulder.

"You have another latte here," he said, and her eyes immediately widened in surprise.

" _Are you serious_?" she breathed - her tone filled with so much awe that Chunk couldn't help but laugh.

"You think I don't notice you finish your drink before we even get back? You needed the buffer."

And for Chunk, the grin that split Cable's face was more than enough thanks.

* * *

That grin returned the following day, when news reports showed three very anxious and very _familiar_ young men. According to the reporter, the three college students suddenly found that their school's computer system had no log of their football scholarships, their bank accounts had been emptied, their social media profiles had been deleted, and that their student loans had suddenly tripled in amount. The police had no suspects, but this seemed to be the work of a very experienced and very skilled hacker.

The identity of the said hacker was blatantly obvious, if Cable's triumphant smile throughout the broadcast was anything to go by.

The rest of team exchanged glances before resuming their duties - content to just turn a blind eye to their youngest member's latest scheme.

Chunk, however, was horrified.

"Please tell me you didn't do anything permanent," said the stylist as he stared disbelievingly at the screen. Yes, those kids had been horrible, arrogant and discriminatory, but they didn't deserve to go into financial ruin over a few words.

"Everything'll be back to normal in three days," Cable assured with no small amount of pride. She had managed quite a feat.

"Tomorrow. These kids look like they're about to cry, and I'm pretty sure they got the message."

The hacker grumbled half-heartedly but agreed nonetheless.

"Good," the older man said. He then offered a fist to the young girl, pride shining in his eyes. "Now gimme some."

Cable had never been prouder of herself than when she pounded her fist against his.

* * *

\- • -

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

 **Hi guys! So that's Chapter 1 (AKA: What happens when I'm at my dentist's waiting room with nothing to do for an hour and a half)!**

 **Please let me know what you think, and please leave your reviews!**

 **They would mean _so much_ to me and they truly make my day~!**

 **It'd let me know if you actually like this story, or let me know what I can do to make it better!** **I hope the characters weren't OOC and the dialogue was alright, but if not, please tell me what more I can do to improve it! Constructive criticism is more than welcome, but please be nice about it! \\(^u^)/**

 **Feel free to PM me guys, and thank you so much for reading! I hope to see you all soon!**

 **-RW =)**


	2. I Found It (Danny)

**_"... I found it..."_**

* * *

 _ **\- • -**_

* * *

The second time it happened, Chunk was watching Danny successfully down an entire pint of beer in one swig.

It had been a long and trying case, to say the least. A man - Mr. Ramos - had been accused of being a drug dealer, and was said to be supplying the minors at the local high school with their vice of choice. Word spread quickly when one of the students accidentally overdosed, and was now in a coma. Mr. Ramos had sworn on his life that he steered clear of that business - that "I have two daughters that are their age, Dr. Bull! I've never touched drugs and I sure as hell wouldn't sell to any kids!"

And Bull had believed him.

And so Danny got to work.

To say that it was difficult to find evidence to exonerate him was an understatement. It was damn near _imposssible_ to find the real dealer who sold to those kids, but Danny wasn't former-FBI for nothing. Calling upon every ounce of her training and experience, Danny had dug far deeper than what she was used too, and had to do a lot more legwork - much to her displeasure.

It was worth it though; especially when she saw Mr. Ramos nearly burst into tears in sheer relief and happiness when he had been found "not guilty" - shaking her hand and tearfully saying, "I get to go home to my kids. Thank you thank you thank you..."

Chunk was not blind to the amount of effort Danny had invested into the case. He had seen how she had practically lived at the office for that week, and on occasion, had opted to stay with her on those infinitely long nights. He could see the bags under her eyes and the fact that she rubbed her temple far too often. Though she would beg to disagree, the stylist could say that she truly went above and beyond on this one.

And so while they had celebrated on the night of the win, Chunk was resolved to take her out for a drink or two. She had more than earned it.

And that's how they found themselves that night: Chunk staring in part-awe, part-horror as the woman in front of him finished an entire glass of beer in one huge gulp.

Wiping the foam from her lips, Danny set the glass on the countertop with a triumphant *thunk*, and laughed in amusement at the man's disbelieving expression.

"Remind me never to challenge you to a drinking game," was all Chunk could say, and that earned him a wink from the former special-agent.

"Smart," she quipped. "I used to drink my brothers under the table - I'm pretty sure I can take you."

"Fair enough," Chunk laughed and raised his hands in surrender.

They were in the middle of a conversation when suddenly, Danny's brow furrowed as she looked at something just over Chunk's shoulder.

Curious, the stylist turned around.

The sight that met him made both his eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

A man, obviously piss-drunk and stumbling every few feet, was making his way towards them - his sober girlfriend tugging on his arm and trying in vain to stop her intoxicated partner. Judging by her actions, this was not the first time she had been in this situation, and Chunk didn't have to be a genius to know that this was about to get ugly, and quick.

"We should go," he said - urgency coloring his voice.

"You're probably right," agreed Danny - grabbing her coat and standing quickly.

Chunk was about to do the same, but the moment he was able to stand, he heard a voice call out.

"Hey! You! Big guy!"

All he could do was sigh long-sufferingly.

Into the fray, then.

Steeling himself and keeping his temper in check, Chunk turned to face the man.

Upon closer inspection, Chunk could confirm without a doubt that this man was drunk out of his mind. His face was flushed red - it was more than anger, the stylist was certain. His eyes were unfocused, and he seemed oblivious to his girlfriend who was tugging on his arm.

She seemed to have enough common sense and self-preservation to see what her intoxicated parter could not: that Chunk was a head taller than the man, and could very easily beat him into a pulp should he choose.

"Jerry, _please,"_ the young woman pleaded with wide, brown eyes. "Let's go. You're not thinking straight."

Chunk smiled at her sympathetically - eyes soft and reassuring.

' _Don't worry. I won't hurt him.'_

To this, the girl gave him a small, grateful smile.

The moment was ruined, however, when the man - Jerry, apparently - yanked his arm sharply out of her grasp.

"DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO, CAROL!" he bellowed - his voice effectively rising above the din, causing conversations to pause and piquing the curiosity of everyone in the area.

Well this was just great.

They were making a scene now.

Perfect.

Internal sigh for Chunk.

Without his companion's restraint, the man had no problem walking up to the former athlete - going so far as to stare defiantly into the larger man's eyes and stand so close that their chests almost touched.

"WHAT'S YOUR DEAL, MAN?!" he boomed.

Chunk, for his part, was amazed at how much confidence could be found at the bottom of a bottle.

"WHAT'S WITH THE SUIT AND THE WEIRD PANTS," the man continued his drunken tirade. "ARE YOU FREAKIN' GAY OR SOMETHING?!"

Aaaaaaand there it was.

Chunk took a calming breath and turned to look at Danny in an effort to ground himself.

Danny looked more outraged than anything. The situation was absurd. They had been minding their own business, and suddenly a man came up to one of her closest friends for the sole purpose of insulting him? It made no sense.

And yet Chunk was looking at her reassuringly, as if saying that he could handle this.

Danny huffed but nodded nonetheless. Of course he could. If anyone could hold his own, it was Chunk.

With that vote of confidence, the stylist took a deep breath and turned back to the man, who had yet to stop fuming as he waited for a response. He met the furious eyes with steady browns - a practiced calm watching over him.

"Yes, I am," he answered, voice unbelievably level. "And I'm proud of it. There's nothing wrong with being gay."

It was obvious that the offender had not expected to be met with such an even answer, and Chunk could attest that seeing a more than tipsy man splutter for a response was one of the most amusing things he had ever seen.

"Y-YOU FREAKSHOW!" the man squawked when he finally found his words, and Chunk's mirth immediately vanished. "YOU'RE GONNA BURN IN HELL FOR BEING SO DAMN _DISGUSTING!_ "

He could hear both Carol and Danny's sharp intake of breath, and he knew he had to walk away before things got even messier.

It wasn't worth it.

With a hard stare and a low whisper of "Good luck with the hangover", Chunk turned around and headed for the door.

He purposefully ignored the slurring yells of, "YEAH YOU BETTER RUN, YOU DIRTY PIECE OF-" "JERRY, BE QUIET!" - before stepping out into the cold night air.

* * *

Once outside, Chunk leaned heavily against the nearest wall and sighed - staring at the small puffs his breaths had created.

It was the harsh reality of society that there were still people who thought like that. That there were still those who couldn't accept that everyone could love who they wanted to love. Who saw him as unnatural and that he had to be "fixed" - whatever that meant.

He sighed again.

...Still.

There were people like his friends who thought otherwise. Who cared about him and defended him even when they didn't have to. The thought of Danny's expression of pure outrage at the hateful words thrown at him was enough to bring a small smile to his lips.

Wait.

 _Danny._

As if struck by a lightning bolt, Chunk suddenly snapped to attention, searching near-frantically for his companion.

He had assumed that the former special-agent had been right behind him when he had walked out of the bar. Where was she? Why didn't she follow him out? Why didn't he check if she was with him? Why did he immediately assume tha-

He was pulled out of his thoughts when be heard a sudden commotion coming from the bar.

He felt his stomach drop and his heart hammered in his chest at the thought of Danny being inside in the middle of all that chaos. All rational thought was drowned out by his mounting worry and the fact that _he had left her in there oh god oh god oh god._

But before he could get dive headlong into the growing mess, he saw two burly men - ' _security,'_ his brain supplied - dragging Jerry out of the door. What was peculiar was the fact that the young man's face was pinched in pain, and his hands were on his pants, hovering over his... private bits.

Before the older man could investigate further, Danny emerged from the bar, head held high and a smug smile on her face.

Chunk looked from Jerry's pained expression, then to Danny's smiling face.

Then back to Jerry.

Then Danny.

And everything clicked into place.

Chunk was laughing before he could even think about what to do next - the former agent joining in as she walked up to the stylist.

"Told you I grew up with brothers," Danny remarked with no small amount of pride, causing Chunk to laugh even harder.

They were both interrupted when Carol suddenly walked up to the pair, looking a bit sheepish.

"Sorry about Jerry," she began, wringing her hands. "You didn't deserve any of that."

The former football player smiled in gratitude.

"Does this happen a lot?" he queried.

"Far too often," the young girl replied with an eye-roll. "This is the last one, though. I broke up with him."

Again, Chunk's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"Really?"

"It's for the best," she assured. "My brother's gay too, and I don't wanna be with a guy who can't even respect that."

Suffice to say, the stylist couldn't articulate his gratefulness at her words.

But that was alright.

His eyes spoke volumes, and the young woman seemed to get the message.

With one last apology and a wave goodbye, Carol left the stylist and the former officer to return home.

"I'm glad she broke up with him," Chunk mused as he watched the woman walk down the street and then turn a corner, disappearing from view. "She can do a lot better."

Danny hummed in agreement.

"True. He probably won't be able to have kids after tonight, anyways."

And at her words, Chunk couldn't help the guffaw that escaped his lips - his laughter causing Danny to break out into a grin of her own. She was definitely pleased with herself.

Shaking his head in fondness, Chunk slung an arm over the younger woman's shoulders and proceeded to walk down the street.

"C'mon," said Chunk. "I know this awesome French café that stays open 'till midnight."

"You paying?"

"Of course."

And with that, the two companions continued on their way - Danny falling into step beside the stylist effortlessly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

All the while, the quiet patter of their twin footsteps faded silently into the night.

* * *

 _ **\- • -**_

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

 **Aaaand that's Chapter 2!**

 **Let's just say I had a lot of time on my hands when we waited for an hour to be seated at a packed restaurant, and when I had to wait for hours at school.**

 **I hope you guys liked it! I'm a bit concerned about how I wrote the characters, and I'd really love feedback or any suggestions!**

 **Speaking of that! THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR ALL THE FAVORITES, FOLLOWS AND REVIEWS! I was overwhelmed with all the response, and I hope I made the wait worth it!**

 **Thank you so much to the guests "Bella" and "Owen Johnson" for their sweet reviews! I couldn't send you guys messages, but please know your kind words made my day and they just make me so happy, I can't articulate it!**

 **To address your request, "Owen Johnson", yes! We _will_ see Bull defend Chunk, but that'll happen in the later chapters! I'll get to it though, don't worry!**

 **Also! I know that for the past two chapters, we've been dealing with homophobia and people insulting Chunk for being gay, but it won't all be about that! The first chapter was defending him from someone who insulted his football career and why he left. This second was was defending him from someone who insulted him for being gay. The third will be... well, you'll have to wait and see!**

 **I hope to see you soon guys! With school here finally slowing down, I think you can expect a new chapter soon!**

 **Until then, keep being your amazing selves!**

 **Bye!**

 **-RW =D**


	3. All on My Own (Benny)

**_"... All on my own..."_**

* * *

 _ **\- • -**_

* * *

The third time it happened, Benny was sure he was willing to murder someone for a sandwich, right about then.

It was his fault, really. He had been far too busy when lunchtime rolled around, and had opted to forego eating in favor of reviewing the final details of their current case. It was a simple case; an assault charge and a bad case of racial bias. At his decision, his stomach grumbled and was quick to voice its displeasure - but after downing a cup of coffee and feeling considerably better, he assumed that he was all set for the rest of the day.

Turns out he wasn't.

He felt the first of the hunger pangs at around three in the afternoon, but he had brushed it off. He didn't have time to eat when he was writing his closing arguments - especially when he knew his words would be the clincher of the case.

No. His eating could wait.

In hindsight, this was not a good idea.

His stomach started grumbling even louder a few hours later. So loudly, in fact, that he was almost certain there was a thunderstorm in his gut, or at the very least, someone was firing a cannon in there.

Regardless, he had ignored it. He still couldn't crack the closing statement, and he would be having dinner soon anyway.

Again, not a good idea.

Quite some time later, he all but threw his hands in the air, and finally decided that he needed back-up. Closing arguments were his forte - sure - but he couldn't help the fact that there were times when the words just. wouldn't. come. It was times like these when he would admit defeat and call in the cavalry. He would very much rather ask for a helping hand, than botch up a case just because he had a bad case of writer's block.

And so, he called Chunk.

He almost always called on Chunk for help, if he was honest. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the opinions of the others; he would gladly listen to whatever insights they could provide. It was just that during his first case back on the job, when he defended the female pilot who survived a plane crash, he had experienced the same writing blocks. He couldn't seem to nail his closing statement, especially when it had to address gender bias, and he was sorely out of practice. And that was when Chunk swooped in with his neckties and stories about his own experiences, and just like that, Benny had it.

He had called upon the stylist a number of times after that, and the larger man had yet to fail in providing Benny the help he needed. Not to mention the fact that Chunk was always willing to be of assistance to any member of the team, and he never seemed to mind staying with them no matter how late it got.

And so a few more hours later - long after every other member of the team had gone home - the duo were still poring over the closing statement, and were trying to revise a particularly pesky phrase.

And that was when Benny's stomach decided to call for help.

The grumble was loud enough for the two to pause in their work. Benny almost blushed in embarrassment, while Chunk was busy looking for the active volcano that must have produced such a sound. Putting the pieces together, the stylist raised an eyebrow at the counselor, who had the good decency to look sheepish.

Not a moment later, Chunk stood up, grabbed his coat, and announced that they would do no more writing until Benny got some food in him. Deaf to the smaller man's squawks of protest, the former athlete had to physically drag him to the elevator.

Once the pair were outside, it was then Benny became acutely aware if just how hungry he was. The closest food chain to their office was a Subway about a block away, and he all but ran to the restaurant, with Chunk hot at his heels.

And that was how they found themselves now: Benny waiting impatiently for his sub as Chunk paid the cashier for their meals. Once their food was ready, Benny was quick to sit down at one of the establishment's many chairs, and Chunk cautiously handed him his sandwich and drink.

With the speed only a starving man was capable of, Benny tore into his sub faster than Chunk could unwrap his.

To his credit, Benny tried to put conscious effort into slowing down, but his stomach would have none of it. Chunk ate his turkey breast sandwich at a more leisurely pace, and watched the counselor with a mixture of amusement and concern. He knew Benny was hungry, but he would rather not give the smaller man the Heimlich any time soon.

"You okay, man?" Chunk asked, the concern in his voice, evident. The concern was completely justified, as the former football star watched Benny swallow a bite that he wasn't even sure he could swallow.

"Totally," Benny answered absentmindedly, and he took yet another bite of his sub - a bit of meat hanging off his chin.

Chunk chuckled at the sight of the smaller man, who looked up in confusion.

"What?" the counselor asked - the piece of pastrami swinging wildly. Chunk's chuckles had escalated to full-blown laughter by now, which he tried - and failed - to muffle with his hand.

"You got a little something here," Chunk said, gesturing to his own chin.

"Oh," was all Benny could say, as he suddenly became aware of the piece of meat on his face. With a small laugh, he took a napkin and wiped away the offending piece of protein.

"Thanks, Chunk," the smaller man said, and without further ado, dove back into the remnants of his sandwich.

Shaking his head fondly and huffing out a laugh, Chunk returned to eating his own sub. After swallowing a bite, the stylist grabbed his drink to wash the food down, only to find that the cup was empty. A quick peek into Benny's cup, and he saw that his companion's drink was nearly finished as well.

Refill time, then.

"I'm gonna get us more drinks," Chunk announced as he stood and took both cups. "Yours was a Coke, right?"

"Yup. Thanks, man."

With a nod of acknowledgement, Chunk proceeded to make his way to the drinking station. The process of refilling the drinks were blissfully uneventful. The moments that followed, however? Quite the opposite.

He wasn't sure how it had escalated so quickly.

After he filled the cups with their respective drinks, the stylist turned to head back to the table where Benny was waiting. What he didn't count on was the fact that a man - in his late twenties, if Chunk had to guess - was passing by the refill station at the exact same time.

The two parties nearly crashed into each other, and if not for Chunk's stellar reflexes - honed by years of athletic training and practice - the brown-haired man would currently be drenched in the carbonated drinks. The former athlete moved the cups away just in time and back-pedaled - his flurry of movement keeping the all drinks securely in their containers.

All but a splash, that is.

"What the heck, man!" the young man exclaimed as he stared down at the stain on his shirt - courtesy of the Coke cup in Chunk's hand.

Well, "stain" was actually an exaggeration, as the mark was no bigger than the size of a quarter. However, it could have been the whole front of his shirt, as far as the man was concerned, and it warranted such a reaction.

"Don't you watch where you're going?!" the young man continued his tirade. Out of the corner of his eye, Chunk could see Benny start to rise from his seat, watching the scene unfold with both confusion and concern.

Chunk, for his part, quickly set the cups down on the nearest surface, and pulled out the handkerchief in his pocket.

"I am so sorry, sir," he apologized sincerely, letting the man's hostility roll off his shoulders. "Let me help you with that."

He began dabbing at the man's shirt, wanting to clean the stain before it had a chance to dry. Unfortunately, this only seemed to anger the man even further.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!" the brunette screamed in outrage, and without any warning whatsoever, he shoved Chunk away harshly - using all his strength to push the larger man off.

Normally, such an action wouldn't have fazed the former football player in the slightest, but the unexpectedness of the action, coupled with the fact that he had not braced himself properly, made the larger man stagger back a few steps.

Suffice to say, the stylist was nothing short of shocked. He hadn't expected such a heated reaction, much less a physical one, but apparently this man had other plans. Maybe he was looking too much into it, but Chunk had a feeling that the man's aggression went deeper than a simple drink spill, if the commotion he was causing was anything to go by.

 _'At least we're not making much of a scene,'_ Chunk mused to himself - thankful for the lateness of the hour and the lack of people in the establishment. He was too tired to get into an argument with this man - much less having to do it in front of an audience.

"Excuse me, what's going on here?" came a familiar voice from behind, that pulled the stylist out of his thoughts.

Chunk turned around to see Benny walking up to the pair - the beginnings of anger shining in his eyes. The counselor wasn't sure what had transpired between the two, but one thing was certain: nobody pushed his friend around like that. Not if he had anything to say about it.

 _"_ Your buddy here just spilled his drink all over me!" the man fumed indignantly, gesturing to the stain on his clothes.

Inspecting the (frankly pathetic excuse of a) stain, Benny couldn't help but raise an incredulous eyebrow at how unbelievably trivial it was.

"And not just that!" the young man continued. "Your buddy over there started to touch my shirt and _grab me!_ "

"Sir," Chunk interjected immediately, taking a step forward. "I was trying to clean the stain before it had a chance to dry and-"

"Pssh! Yeah right!" the brunette interrupted with a disbelieving scoff. "I know what you people are like! I'm lucky I still got my wallet and my phone with what you were doin'!"

It took a moment for Benny to process what had been said - but when he did, he could feel something hot and heavy build in his chest. It felt as if it were growing exponentially by the second, and threatened to burst out at any moment.

" _Excuse me?"_

The words were out of the counselor's mouth before he could even think about speaking them.

Chunk could feel his muscles coil and his senses sharpen, but it was neither in anger nor offense. It was out of worry. Benny's words practically _dripped_ with fury, and he could tell the smaller man would be hard-pressed to reign in his temper. His words were posed, not as a question, but a challenge; as if daring the offender to speak such bigoted words again. The stylist knew his friend could be a scrappy fighter if he wanted to, and knew that there could be a very real need for his restraining skills soon.

Unfortunately, this was all lost on the brown-haired man, as he remained unfazed by the counselor's tone.

"C'mon man," he sneered. "You know what I'm talkin' about. I grew up in a neighborhood full o' black guys, and I know what they're like! They're all criminals!"

Benny could feel an inferno burning in his gut, and the edges of his vision were slowly tinting red. He couldn't believe the _nerve_ of this guy! He was insulting one of his closest friends, and branding him a criminal just because of the color of his skin?! Oh, what he'd give to slug this man.

"You're all a bunch of thugs, you know that?! Animals with no self control!" the man continued his bigoted tirade, going so far as to fix his gaze to Chunk and address him directly. He was completely oblivious to the fact that Benny had balled his hands into fists, and steam was practically coming out of the shorter man's ears.

The brunette took it a step further by taking a step towards the dark-skinned man, a contemptuous smile on his face.

"Well we're not in your little gang territory, are we? So you can't do anything to me! I bet you'd punch me if you could - or pull out a gun you filthy nigg-"

" _THAT'S ENOUGH,"_ Benny thundered, pulling the man back sharply by the arm, and stepping in front of Chunk. The stylist was at a loss for words in the face of the verbal assault - reeling at the sheer amount of hateful prejudice. Benny, on the other hand, was more than happy to use his words instead.

" _Now listen here_ ," the lawyer seethed through clenched teeth, pointing a finger at the offender who seemed shocked at the being pulled away from the other man. "My friend here is one of the kindest, most understanding people I know. He wouldn't raise a hand to anyone, even a scumbag like you who deserves it, because he knows he can beat you within an inch of your life. So no, he's not going to fall for your pathetic bait or give you the satisfaction, and _he is not going to punch you_."

At his words, the man looked thoroughly unimpressed, and even the slightest bit disappointed. Knowing he wouldn't get a rise out of the colored man, and with nothing the left to say, the brunette - in the fashion of a playground bully - simply turned around, scoffed, and grumbled a "whatever".

But he wasn't going to get off that easy.

Chunk was thankful that his senses were on such high alert, because if not, he would have missed Benny's whispered words.

" _But I will."_

In a flash, Benny threw his fist - aiming for the man's head and ready to pound this guy - consequences be damned. He would have made contact, had he not felt a much stronger arm stop his, and another wrap around his torso - nearly lifting him off the ground and effectively retraining him.

"Let it go," came the whispered words in his ear, as he continued to struggle in the former athlete's grip. "He's not worth it. Let it go."

To all this, the offender remained blissfully ignorant, even as Benny burned holes in the back of his skull with his gaze.

" _Benny_ ," Chunk stressed. "C'mon man. Let's go."

His words seemed to have the intended effect, when slowly but surely, the smaller man began to relax in his grip. Sure, he still felt like knocking the living daylights out of the racist low-life, but his rational side - which he momentarily misplaced - begged him to consider otherwise. It wasn't worth it. Stooping down to the man's level, though incredibly satisfying, wasn't going to solve anything. It would just prove him right. Not only that, but Chunk wouldn't want Benny to get into trouble for his sake - much less face an assault charge in his defense.

And so with a shuddering breath, the counselor reigned in his anger and relaxed fully. He stopped struggling in the the ex-football star's grip, and willed his breathing to slow as he uncurled his fists and let his shoulders drop.

Realizing that his companion had calmed down and wouldn't be throwing punches anytime soon, Chunk released his grip on the smaller man.

"Thank you," he whispered gratefully, eyes shining in gratitude.

With one final glance at the youth who had gone back to his business as if nothing had happened, Chunk took Benny by the shoulders and led him out the door.

* * *

"Thanks for uh... holding me back there, Chunk," said Benny when the elevator had opened up to their floor in the TAC building.

Now that he had time to think about it, the lawyer realized that throwing a punch wouldn't have been the best of ideas. Sure, he had been provoked, but he'd still be guilty of battery and would hard-pressed to defend himself in court.

"Any time man," the stylist smiled, but instead of heading toward's the counselor's office, he took a different turn in the opposite direction. Curiosity piqued, Benny followed the larger man into another room.

When they reached their destination, the smaller man nearly laughed.

His punching bag. Of course.

"Now," Chunk began as he took his place behind the sand-filled column. "I saw your fist a while ago man, and while your punch would've been solid, your knuckles would be bruised like hell right now."

At these words, Benny couldn't help the laugh that escaped his lips, which the larger man returned with a grin.

"I used to box when I was younger," the former athlete continued. "And I know you're used to using gloves, but you gotta learn to make a proper fist."

Benny smiled and nodded, bracing himself against the floor and getting into position in front of the bag.

"So you gotta make sure your thumb's wrapped around your second and third knuckle," Chunk instructed, holding up his fist to demonstrate.

"Like this?" the raven-haired man asked, holding out his own fist for inspection.

"Yeah, good. But you gotta make it look like a solid brick so just move your- yup. That's it. Okay, so punch straight and- good. That was good. Again."

With Chunk's words of encouragement ringing in his ears, Benny threw punch after punch at the bag - the movements effectively dissipating what anger remained.

And as he pounded the piece of equipment mercilessly, the counselor realized something that made his face break into a wide grin and made him shake his head in happy disbelief.

He had his closing statement.

* * *

 _ **\- • -**_

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

 ***SCREAMS BECAUSE IT TOOK ME FAR TOO LONG TO WRITE THIS***

 **Hi everyone! First of all, I'd really like to apologize for how long it took me to write this chapter! ='(**

 **This chapter is the longest so far, but I still feel horrible for making you all wait so long! I really don't have any excuse, and I'd just like to apologize again. (I'm very bad at writing a series, which is why you'll notice I mostly just have one-shots BUT I AM DETERMINED TO FINISH THIS ONE!)**

 **So, as I promised, this chapter is different from the two before it, since it now deals with racism and how Benny defends Chunk from it! Cookies for you if you noticed the wittle foreshadowing at the start, and the Hamilton Off-Broadway reference!**

 **As always, I just really wanna thank you all SO MUCH for all the support! Your reviews really make my day, and I really appreciate them! There were lots of times when I couldn't find the usual drive to write this, but looking at all your kind words spurred me on!**

 **Also, special shout-out to _kensi54382_! She's really awesome and you should really check her work out! **

**She helped me out, because I encountered a kind of speed-bump while writing the ending. Originally, I intended for Benny to slug the guy who insulted Chunk, and for it to end with our favorite stylist icing his bruised knuckles (you can have this very satisfying imagine if you like =3). Unfortunately, I realized the guy could charge Benny with assault and battery. It wouldn't do so well for someone like Benny, who is a lawyer, to actually break a law.**

 ***cue hours of research into state laws on assault, digging into Quora about how to punch someone legally, and going over loopholes in my head***

 **Finally, I came up with this, and _kensi54382_ was kind enough to let me run the idea by her! I like to think it has a better message, and fits in with the story better =)**

 **AAAAAND I'M RAMBLING AGAIN, SORRY!**

 **Anywho, I really hope you all liked this chapter, and please tell me what you think! I'm worried about the characterization, and I'd love to hear your opinions! Constructive criticism is always welcome!**

 **As I said before, my inbox is always open, and I'm always up for a chat! =D**

 **We're halfway through this story, everyone! (You can probably guess the quote now and the title's origins =D) I couldn't have done this without all of you, so thank you again!**

 **Bye!**

 **-RW ;)**


End file.
